Celeborn felt a deep ache at the steadfast resolve of his beloved granddaughter, whom he and Galadriel had cherished and raised.

"But have you considered," he asked gravely, "that there lies not only a gulf of race between you and him, but also of time? Would you surrender your eternal life for him, and live but a short span as a mortal?"

Arwen shook her head gently. The curve of her lips held a smile warmer than sunlight, and the tenderness in her eyes seemed to overflow.

"Grandfather, you need not fear for me. Sylas refused my wish to take on a mortal fate. He would rather remain with me longer than die with me sooner."

On Sylas's side, Galadriel remained silent, yet her mind reached out to his. She regarded him with a deep, knowing smile, her gaze as if it could pierce through his form to see the depths of his heart.

"Lady Galadriel, do you not oppose me and Arwen?" Sylas asked, surprised.

Galadriel shook her head, but her words stirred him to the core.

"In my garden, I often gaze into the Mirror to behold the past, the present, and what may yet come. Yet the images of the future are ever-changing, each person, each choice, each moment alters the path ahead, so no vision is fixed in certainty.

"In Arwen, I have seen two fates. In one, she chose the doom of Men. For a time she gained all she desired, yet soon after, she lost it all. At the end, she walked alone into the forest, to be buried in some unmarked place, and slowly forgotten."

Sadness flickered in Galadriel's eyes, as though she had already witnessed that lonely end. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a look of quiet wonder.

"And in the other… she met you. The Evening Star became the Everlasting Star, her light growing brighter still, shining unceasingly through the ages."

Galadriel's smile deepened. "So why should I object?"

Sylas understood at once. The mortal path she described was clearly the one that unfolded without his presence. As Arwen's grandmother, Galadriel would never wish her to give up her immortality, only to be parted by death. His arrival had altered that course.

He recalled, with a start, how when they had first met in Rivendell, Galadriel had freely given him the Elessar, the very gem that, in another fate, would have been Aragorn's bride-gift to Arwen, mounted as the head of a staff. Could it be that she had foreseen this outcome even then?

Sylas's heart stirred at the thought, and he found himself studying Galadriel anew.

Sylas was shocked by Galadriel's precognitive ability. Compared with the other party's abilities, the prophecy talent he gained by signing in was nothing but trash and there was no comparison at all.

Galadriel did not object, and even though Celeborn was reluctant and he had no choice but to respect Arwen's opinion. After all, elves are extremely loyal to their feelings and will never change once they make up their minds. But he was still unhappy with Sylas.

In order for the two to go to Rivendell, they first needed to obtain the consent of their father Elrond. Compared with uneasy hearts, Sylas and Arwen passed through the fireplace and came to the valley again. Elrond was somewhat surprised and delighted by the arrival of his daughter and Sylas. But soon, he discovered the secret connection between the two. His brows suddenly furrowed, and his joy instantly disappeared.

"Arwen, have you really made up your mind?" Elrond asked with a heavy expression.

Arwen nodded, her eyes firm and resolute: "Yes, father, I will never change!"

"But don't worry, father. I will not choose the fate of a mortal. Sylas also refuses me to do so. He wants to be with me forever, not just live out this short life." Arwen changed the subject and said with a gentle and happy look in her eyes.

And she told Elrond everything that Sylas had said.

After hearing this, Elrond looked at Sylas with some doubt, his eyes very penetrating.

"Sylas, I'm not being unreasonable, but achieving immortality is not easy. The only special exception from ancient times to the present is my human grandfather Tuor, who received guidance from the Valar and sailed west to Valinor. He received the grace of the Father of All Living Things and was recognized as an elf, thus achieving eternal life. Others who pursue immortality, without exception, went astray. For example, the people of Numenor were once destroyed by their own greed and corruption. The Nine Ringwraiths were once powerful kings among humans, but they were bewitched and corrupted by Sauron's power in pursuit of immortality, becoming his minions."

In response to Elrond's concerns and doubts, Sylas expressed his vision of the Phoenix. Elrond was also surprised to hear about the phoenix. He didn't expect that Sylas could design such a perfect and gorgeous species, and he only needed the last key step to success.

Suddenly, he relaxed slightly. Since this phoenix could get Gandalf's recognition and participation, Elrond felt much more relieved. But Sylas was afraid that Elrond was still worried, so he took out another piece of parchment and handed it to him.

Looking at the mysterious patterns and runes drawn on the parchment, Elrond was attracted by the contents.

"What is this?" Elrond asked curiously.

"This is how to make the Philosopher's Stone," Sylas explained. "The Philosopher's Stone is also called the Sorcerer's Stone. It's a magical substance that can turn stone into gold and create the Elixir of Life."

"The Philosopher's Stone? Can it create the elixir of immortality?" Elrond was very surprised when he heard this.

As an immortal elf, Elrond naturally did not need the elixir of life, but he was surprised by the meaning of the Philosopher's Stone. The fate of mankind is set by Ilúvatar, and its essence is death. This is the "gift" given by Ilúvatar to mankind, so even the Valar do not have the power to change this fate of mankind.

The only special one is the human Tuor, who is the grandfather of Elrond and the father of the half-elf Earendil. He gained eternal life, but it was not due to the power of the Valar, but a special grace given by Ilúvatar himself. He was listed among the elves and became a "unique exception."

If the Philosopher's Stone that Sylas mentioned could really make people immortal, it would definitely be a miracle no less than the Silmaril created by Fëanor. By then, it would not only be a treasure coveted by all non-immortal races, but even the Valar would probably cast their eyes on it.

In response to Elrond's surprise, Sylas shook his head and explained.

"The Philosopher's Stone does have a flaw. Although it grants immortality, it cannot prevent the body from aging. Therefore, the longer one lives, the weaker the body becomes."

This is why he still tried to evolve the Animagus into a Phoenix. After all, the dangers of the Philosopher's Stone are obvious. Someone like Nicolas Flamel, who has lived for more than 600 years, has already aged like a dead person. If he lives any longer, he might not even be able to move.

Under such circumstances, who would want to continue living like a living dead? Perhaps this is also the reason why Nicolas Flamel finally gave up the Philosopher's Stone.

So this time, Sylas showed Elrond the production diagram of the Philosopher's Stone. On the one hand, it was to give Elrond a guarantee, and on the other hand, he wanted to use the wisdom of Elrond and others to see if he could improve the Philosopher's Stone and make up for its disadvantages.

As the most famous elf sage in Middle-earth, Elrond's wisdom and knowledge even amazed Gandalf. Sylas himself did not have the confidence to perfect the Philosopher's Stone, but he could ask for external help and seek help from Elrond, his future "father-in-law."

And he did not have to worry about the secret being leaked. After all, the most important function of the Philosopher's Stone, which is to make elves immortal, had no appeal to the elves at all, and the only function of turning stones into gold was not worth mentioning.

Hearing Sylas's words, Elrond nodded.

"It is a drawback, but even so, the Philosopher's Stone is a great invention worthy of being recorded in history."

He looked at the young wizard in front of him in amazement.

"Once the Philosopher's Stone was complete:, Elrond told Sylas, "From now on, your name will be forever associated with this Stone, just as Fëanor's name is forever tied to the Silmarils."

With the double assurance of the Phoenix and the Philosopher's Stone, Elrond's disapproval of Sylas and Arwen's relationship softened slightly. Still, he laid down three firm conditions: until Sylas attained immortality, he and Arwen could never truly be together. Sylas accepted without hesitation.

Even so, Elrond did not forbid them from meeting entirely. He simply believed that "out of sight, out of mind" would help, and so buried himself in the Hall of Flames, poring over the runic dictionary Sylas had given him to decipher the parchment detailing the Stone's creation.

Sylas, however, found his own plans with Arwen abruptly interrupted when her two brothers, Elrohir and Elladan, hauled him away for "training." Their reasoning was blunt: at nearly two meters tall, he had to be battle-ready. Without wands or staff, they argued, one was as vulnerable as a common man, and what common man could protect their sister?

Thus began Sylas's days of unrelenting hardship. Mornings were devoted to swordplay with Elrohir, afternoons to spear sparring with Elladan. They called it "practice" and "friendly competition," but in truth, Sylas spent most of the time getting thoroughly beaten.

Every evening, bruised and aching from head to toe, he would stagger back to Hogwarts Castle, teeth clenched against the pain, before smearing himself with distilled white restorative essence. Only then could he dare to lie down.

At dawn, he would return to Rivendell, where the twins awaited him like wolves scenting prey. The moment they realized the potion restored his strength overnight, they doubled their efforts, attacking with renewed vigor. Yet for all their ferocity, their blades never drew blood, they were too skilled for that.

Sylas fought back as best he could, wielding the Brisingr and the fabled spear Aeglos, both long-unused treasures from his enchanted satchel. Now, they were seeing more daylight than they had in years.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, Sylas peeled off his outer robe and winced as he applied the white essence to the deep purple bruises along his arms. Reaching awkwardly for his back, he felt a cool touch as a slender hand took over.

Arwen stood behind him, her eyes filled with both worry and reproach. "If you just yielded to my brothers once, they would stop bullying you," she murmured. "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

Sylas drew a steadying breath, then shook his head. "No. If I admit defeat, they'll never let me see you again. And besides, how can a man admit defeat?"

Ever since discovering that Sylas had 'spirited away' their beloved sister, the twins had transformed into relentless guardians, determined to keep the couple apart. Any refusal to spar was met with a barbed comment about his unwillingness to endure hardship for Arwen's sake.

Pride and love alike kept Sylas from backing down. And truth be told, training under two martial masters who had lived for centuries was paying off. His sword and spear work grew sharper by the day. Even the lingering potency of the Ent-draught he had once drunk in Fangorn Forest seemed to awaken within him, lending greater strength and agility.

Slowly but surely, Sylas was beginning to hold his own against the brothers, and that, perhaps, worried them most of all.